


Infuriating

by telperion_15



Category: Primeval
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, Dating, Developing Relationship, M/M, Oblivious, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-03
Updated: 2012-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telperion_15/pseuds/telperion_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Becker counted it a miracle that he hadn’t gone to the armoury, demanded a gun, and used it to shoot Danny Quinn in the head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Infuriating

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the smallfandomfest prompt 'Danny/Becker, desperate times call for desperate measures'.
> 
> Spoilers for episodes 3.03 and 3.07.

Sometimes Becker counted it a miracle that he hadn’t gone to the armoury, demanded a gun, and used it to shoot Danny Quinn in the head.  
  
The man was _infuriating_. Not to mention cocky and reckless. Today’s antics were a case in point. Taking on a medieval knight trained in sword fighting practically from birth with a pair of rusty pipes? Only Danny bloody Quinn could have emerged unscathed from that, and it really pissed Becker off. How the hell did he manage it?  
  
And yet, despite all that, and much to his own disgust, Becker _liked_ the man. Quinn obviously enjoyed his work, and he had far more of a sense of humour about it all than Professor Cutter had (although that probably wasn’t surprising, given all that the professor had been through before his untimely death).  
  
Becker just wished that _he_ wasn’t the focus of Quinn’s sense of humour quite so often. Finding the man breaking through his security measures was getting a little old now.  
  
“Oi, soldier boy, fancy a pint?”  
  
“Don’t call me soldier boy,” said Becker through gritted teeth, as he turned to face a grinning Danny.  
  
“Sorry, _Captain_ ,” Danny replied, the sarcasm heavy. Then he grinned again. “So, is that a yes?”  
  
“Oh, what the hell… _yes_ ,” said Becker. “But you’re buying.”  
  
So now he was drinking with the man too? Becker resisted the urge to find the nearest brick wall and bang his head against it.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
The drinking became a semi-regular thing after that. Danny still annoyed the hell out of Becker a lot of the time, and Becker still occasionally entertained some homicidal thoughts, but in general the other man was pretty good company. And Becker had never felt all that comfortable socialising with the soldiers under his command, so Danny was the next best thing, he supposed.  
  
“Another one, soldier boy?”  
  
Now, if only he could cure Quinn of using that ridiculous nickname…  
  
“Thanks,” Becker replied, rising above it. He wasn’t going to give Danny the satisfaction, he really wasn’t.  
  
Danny was gone and back in less than five minutes, clearly having used that cockney charm of his to get their refills much quicker than Becker ever would have been able to, despite his good looks and nice manners.  
  
“Get that down your neck, sunshine,” Danny said, plonking another pint on the table in front of Becker.  
  
Oh joy, another nickname…  
  
Still rising above it, Becker picked up the glass and downed about a third of the pint in only a few seconds. Danny cocked an approving eyebrow, and then proceeded to outdo Becker by downing _half_ of his pint in even less time.  
  
Becker refused to be drawn any further, however. The last thing he needed was to get into any kind of drinking competition with Quinn. Not that he thought he couldn’t match the other man, but who knew what kind of stupid things Danny did when he was drunk that he might attempt to drag Becker into.  
  
But Danny just smirked at him like he knew exactly what Becker was thinking, took another mouthful of beer, and then leaned back in his seat and gave Becker an assessing look.  
  
“So, Becker, tell me about yourself.”  
  
Becker nearly choked on his drink. When he’d finished spluttering he glared at Danny, who was still smirking.  
  
“Seriously, Quinn, we’re doing the ‘swapping life stories’ thing now, are we?”  
  
Previously, their conversation had been pretty much limited to the goings-on of the anomaly project (with voices kept to a suitably low volume, of course) and its employees. Becker would probably never admit it, but it was nice to have someone to discuss such things with at the end of the day, when all the running and shooting and confusion had stopped.  
  
But this was new territory for them. And it was already obvious that Danny wasn’t going to let Becker get away without answering.  
  
“What do you want to know?” he asked cautiously.  
  
“Oh, you know, the usual. Childhood, family, previous postings, exes, that kind of thing.”  
  
Becker sighed. “Fine. Pretty boring childhood, only child of an upper-middle-class family, Sandhurst straight out of college, two tours in Afghanistan, managed to avoid Iraq, then the anomaly project.” He deliberately kept it short and to the point, hoping that Danny would take the hint.  
  
No such luck, apparently.  
  
“And what about the exes?” Danny persisted.  
  
“No one of any significance,” Becker replied shortly. Then he decided he needed to get his own back. “Now, what about you?”  
  
Danny shrugged. “Also a pretty dull childhood, eldest child of two in a working class family, brother disappeared, presumed dead, joined the police force to bring his murderer to justice, discovered instead he’d disappeared into a rip in the space-time continuum, joined up with a bunch of crazy dinosaur hunters to try to discover more about it all. But then, you already knew all that.”  
  
Danny was still smiling his easy smile, but Becker suddenly felt guilty about forcing him to bring up his missing brother.  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Danny said, apparently reading Becker’s mind again. “I’m not.” Then he looked at his watch. “Now, I think it’s time we shoved off. Work tomorrow, after all.”  
  
Becker nodded and stood. “Need a lift?”  
  
“Cheers, soldier boy.”  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Becker stopped the truck outside Danny’s house, and then waited while Danny climbed out of the passenger seat, before turning back to peer in at Becker through the open door.  
  
“You want a coffee of something?” he asked off-handedly.  
  
Becker considered briefly. It wasn’t _that_ late, and he couldn’t deny he felt a certain curiosity to see where Danny lived.  
  
But it wasn’t until he was standing at Danny’s front door, watching Danny fumble with the key that it hit him.  
  
“Hang on a minute! You’re asking me in for coffee?”  
  
“Yeah. Problem?”  
  
“Well, that depends on whether you mean coffee, or _coffee_.” Becker raised a pointed eyebrow.  
  
Danny fitted the key into the lock and pushed his front door open. Then he turned and looked at Becker, his smirk all too easy to make out despite the somewhat dim glow coming from the porch light above them.  
  
“Which would you like me to mean?” he said, waggling his own eyebrows.  
  
It was right about then that Becker realised something else. “Oh my god, this is your idea of wooing someone, isn’t it, Quinn? All these quiet drinks after work, they were bloody _dates_ , weren’t they?”  
  
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I think both parties would need to be aware of it for them to be _dates_. Plus, dates would probably involve more romance or something.”  
  
“But you admit that were trying to…”  
  
“Woo you?” Danny shrugged, not appearing the least bit embarrassed. “If that’s what you want to call it. Seems a bit nineteenth century to me, but whatever floats your boat.”  
  
“Bloody fucking hell, Danny. You might have warned me.”  
  
Danny shrugged again. “Oh well, you win some, you lose some. Changed your mind about the coffee, I take it? No worries, I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”  
  
He was turning away when Becker grabbed his arm. “I didn’t say I didn’t want the coffee,” he said, even as his mind scrabbled to keep up with what was happening. “I just…well, why me?”  
  
Danny looked down at Becker’s hand on his arm, and then back up at Becker’s face. “Well, Connor’s completely wrapped up in Abby, and Lester’s got that stick shoved so far up his arse I don’t think there’d be room for anything else. Which just leaves you. Desperate times, and all that…”  
  
“Oh, shut up,” muttered Becker, but without rancour.  
  
“So you _are_ coming in for coffee, then?” Danny asked. “You can have whichever kind you like.” He winked.  
  
The urge to bang his head against a brick wall had returned, as it so often did around Danny Quinn, but Becker nonetheless followed Danny into the house, and shut the door behind them.  
  
Then he shoved Danny up against the hallway wall, stopping just short of kissing him.  
  
“We’ll start with the caffeinated kind, and see where we go from there, shall we?”  
  
“I reckon that can be arranged.”  
  
Danny was smirking again, but for some reason Becker wasn’t finding it quite so infuriating as normal.


End file.
